Ninety Nine Problems of Mallory Archer
by Red Witch
Summary: Mallory tries to fix her life by identifying her problems. Too bad her main problem is that she is Mallory Archer.


**Once again Mallory somehow got rid of the disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters. Just needed to get some instances of Mallory being Mallory out of my mind. **

**Ninety Nine Problems of Mallory Archer **

"All right Mallory here's the files you wanted on all the known whereabouts of all the former employees of our agency," Lana came in with Ray carrying a few folders.

"The ones that are still alive anyway," Ray remarked.

"That's all the files you have?" Mallory scoffed. She was sitting at her desk with a drink of scotch in her hand writing something down on a piece of paper. "We had more personnel than that! That barely looks like half of it."

"During our Summer of Cocaine, Country Music and Coups a lot happened," Ray told her as he put down the folders. "Some people died of heart attacks or got sick and couldn't pay their bills because they had no jobs or health insurance."

"Some like Rodney went into crime but were a lot less successful," Lana added. "Some went to work for ODIN and a few of those guys are already dead."

"One of our former payroll officers decided to go skydiving and his chute didn't open," Ray remarked.

"Oh my God!" Mallory gasped. "Was it Irving?"

"Yes it was," Ray said.

"That's terrible!" Mallory was in shock. "He owed me two hundred dollars! Well he ruined my new fur jacket by getting coffee all over it! Great! Now I'm out of a fur jacket and more money!"

"Wow," Ray gave her a look. "Even for you…"

"Mallory doesn't it bother you at all that you kind of ruined everyone's lives by your little scheme to run a cocaine cartel for the CIA?" Lana asked. "And even as I asked the question…"

"It bothers me more that I'm stuck with the people that stayed and I can't get anyone else to work for me!" Mallory grumbled as she went back to writing her list. "I'll look through those files later. I need to get this done."

"What are you working on? Another crazy scheme?" Lana asked.

"No, Miss Lecture-A-Lot! For your information this is some personal homework I'm doing. My therapist tells me that if I write down my problems I can visualize them and solve them better," Mallory admitted.

"You have a therapist?" Lana asked.

"It's about time," Ray remarked.

"Couples therapist," Mallory waved. "I only went because Ron…never mind. Is there anything else I can do for you **ladies**?"

"You know…" Ray gave her a look.

"Actually I was wondering if you saw Archer," Lana interrupted.

"He's not in here," Mallory sniffed.

"I can **see that**," Lana growled. "I was asking if you knew where he was. He's not in his office."

"How should I know where Sterling is?" Mallory snapped. "Half the time he comes in late and the other half he doesn't bother to show up to work at all!"

"Not that there's much work around here for him to do with the lack of missions," Ray admitted. "For once he actually has an excuse to do nothing."

"I'd make a remark for him not doing **you**," Mallory glared at Ray. "But honestly you have a point. And I'm not going to lie. The lack of business and income from our agency hasn't exactly helped the strain on my marriage."

"I thought you said things were fine?" Lana asked.

"They are! So go look for Sterling and tell him I want to have a word with him!" Mallory snapped. "If he doesn't run away from the sound of your clomping boots!"

"Come on Lana," Ray nudged. "Let's go find Archer and tell him his **Mommy** wants to talk to him about cutting his allowance."

Lana groaned and left with him. "Finally! I thought the Landers Sisters would never leave," Mallory grumbled as she looked at the paper she was working on. "Might as well go over this stupid exercise to pass the time. If only to distract me from the thought that Sterling is probably spending even more of my money on some whore in an alley. Again."

Mallory then read her list out loud.

"Problem Number One: Not enough money! I need more money!"

"Problem Number Two: The CIA doesn't give me enough missions which means my agents can't earn enough money. See Problem One."

"Problem Number Three: My son Sterling Archer. Enough said."

"Problem Number Four: Since Sterling has the emotional and financial maturity of a six year old I have to continue to pay his bills. Including the bills to his new apartment which he's already in trouble with his new superintendent. Where the hell did he get a lemur and how he smuggled it past the doorman?"

"Again see problems One through Three."

"Problem Number Five: The brain damaged gang of peons that work for me. Which includes my idiot whore mongering son, the giant monster handed liberal mother of my grandchild, the world's worst secretary, the sex addicted idiot accountant, the possible Hitler clone obsessed with nerve gas, the fat HR/Agent who can't keep her mouth shut and the Queen of the Cyborgs."

"Problem Number Six: I can't get **anyone else **to work for me besides the group mentioned in Problem Number Five."

"Problem Number Seven: Whatever is going on in Krieger's lab. It's like getting a letter from the IRS. You don't want to know what's in it and you know there's nothing good in it!"

"Problem Number Eight: Can't get any secretaries or cleaning workers for the agency. Apparently when most of them die off due to gunshot wounds, elevator incidents or rabid irradiated animal bites word gets around."

"Problem Number Nine: We're out of weapons and ammunition because Rodney Whosits, one of the few people I employed that had more than one brain cell stole them all! Again back to Problem Number One!"

"Problem Number Ten: It is very likely that sometime in the future either Whosits or some other former employee will try and blackmail me. Certain items and documents are missing. Not to mention my personal pleasure device."

"Problem Number Eleven: Trudy Beekman. Oh how I hate that self-righteous bitch!"

"Problem Number Twelve: It's very likely that I am at the top of the KGB's most wanted list. For a lot of reasons."

"Problem Number Thirteen: It's come to my attention that I'm currently under investigation by the Italian Authorities for the disappearance of their prime minster. Apparently the bastard had pictures."

"Fortunately there is no proof," Mallory stopped and paused. "But you know Italians. Since when does proof actually matter?"

"Problem Number Fourteen," Mallory went back to her list. "I need a name for my 'new' agency. Have writer's block on that one. And most of the good names are taken. And in my case, stolen from me! You would think terrorists would have more imagination!"

"Problem Number Fifteen: Can't get a decorator for my so called new office to work cheap."

"Problem Number Sixteen: My granddaughter is being raised by a liberal. Ugh."

"Problem Number Seventeen: My bastard Irish Superintendent has it out for me. Refuse to give the man a Christmas tip to pay for his son's operation and involve him in one little murder investigation…The man has no sense of humor."

"Problem Number Eighteen: the nerve gas canisters in the air ducts at the agency. I really should get those checked for leaks or something."

"Problem Number Nineteen: Somehow someone at the IRS has figured out that I haven't paid any taxes for a while. Like ever. Those CIA agents are blabbermouths!"

"Problem Number Twenty: Strange sounds coming from the back of the janitor's closet. Honestly I'm not sure I want to know what goes on in there either!"

"Problem Number Twenty One: Milton. That stupid overgrown toaster leaves toast everywhere! And where there's toast, there's ants!"

"And speaking of useless annoying automatons. Problem Number Twenty Two," Mallory went on. "Krieger's creepy animated girlfriend. Just something about her I just don't like!"

"Problem Number Twenty Three: The insane cyborgs my son has allowed to enter his life. Barry, Katya, Conrad…God only knows when one of them will show up to wreck the office again!"

"Speaking of stupid cyborgs," Mallory sighed. "Problem Number Twenty Four. Ray Gillette's poker games in the office! Not only do they cause messes, I don't get a cut!"

"Problem Number Twenty Five: Every time Pam goes into the bathroom. Ugghhhh…The smells alone would knock out an ox!"

"Problem Number Twenty Six: Can't make money being an agent for Carol/Cheryl/Cherlene/Whatever the Hell her name is this week. When your star client has a reputation for setting people and sets on fire it kind of puts a damper on paying gigs."

"Problem Number Twenty Seven: Somehow my billionaire bimbo secretary just got herself a new lighter. That's a problem. Especially when I don't have fire insurance."

"Problem Number Twenty Eight: The fear that Ron actually did better than me during our open marriage phase."

"Problem Number Twenty Nine: The fear that either/and/or Sterling, Pam, Cheryl, Cyril, Krieger and Ray had sex on my desk at one point or another. And considering some of the used condoms I found in my trash I know I never used…That fear is a valid one."

"Problem Number Thirty: The possibility that Krieger not only cloned a velociraptor but murdered it for one of his slasher films. PETA is on my ass about that."

"Problem Number Thirty One: Running out of places to bury the bodies of my enemies and rivals."

"Problem Number Thirty Two: Running out of decent alibis whenever my enemies or rivals go missing!"

"Problem Number Thirty Three: Oh yeah. Not having any fire insurance for the office is a problem. See Problem Number Twenty Seven."

"Problem Number Thirty Four: Insurance premiums have gone way up so I can't even kill some of my agents for money even if I wanted to! Oh I so want to kill most of them!"

"Problem Number Thirty Five: Getting a decent carpet cleaner at a good price that can get bloodstains out."

"Problem Number Thirty Six: That weird smell in the hallway by the janitor's closet that no one knows what it is."

"Problem Number Thirty Seven: The urine and other bodily fluids smell in the elevator. Can no longer have sex in there."

"Problem Number Thirty Eight: My furrier is still gouging me. Trying to get his father deported was a bad idea. All I did was give the man more closet space!"

"Problem Number Thirty Nine: Left behind one of my favorite shoes in San Marcos by accident while I was stuffing stolen loot into my suitcases!"

"Problem Number Forty: My suitcases are still scuffed from the coup."

"Problem Number Forty One: Can't get the smell of cocaine out of my clothes."

"Problem Number Forty Two: Haven't heard from Woodhouse in a while. Which means my inside spy on my son's activities hasn't reported in and who knows what Sterling is doing behind my back? I was sure we retrieved him from the Tunt House when we got back from San Marcos. I think…"

"Problem Number Forty Three: Can no longer check in the airport with a rocket launcher. Damn FAA flight regulations!"

"Problem Number Forty Four: Seriously regretting switching my mailing address to San Marcos."

"Problem Number Forty Five: Popeye keeps trying to shake me down for money Sterling owes him. Not to mention various legal expenses due to the FBI raid."

"Problem Number Forty Six: Trinette the Irish whore is still complaining about child support! Thank you very much Sterling!"

"Problem Number Forty Seven: Still some traces of vomit in my apartment from the bug bombing incident. Thank you idiot employees!"

"Problem Number Forty Eight: Price of alcohol is going up. What is this? Prohibition on the Jersey Shore?"

"Problems Number Forty Nine: Premiums on my Black Titanium card are going up. Thanks a lot Sterling! AGAIN!"

"Problem Number Fifty: I think I now know who Sterling's father really is. And I am not looking forward to the day he finds out."

"Problem Number Fifty One: Possibility of giant mutant rats running around in ventilation shafts. Thank you very much Krieger!"

"Problem Number Fifty Two: Very real likelihood of a semi-sentient robotic teddy bear running around the agency. Again…Krieger!"

"Problem Number Fifty Three: Pam's stupid gossip blog!"

"Problem Number Fifty Four: Minimum wage keeps going up. If Woodhouse finds out about how high it's gotten over the years I am in trouble."

"Problem Number Fifty Five: Servant uprisings. I'm serious. That day is coming and only by the use of constant ABBAB can we prevent it. Sadly not enough employers do."

"Problem Number Fifty Six: No movie studio will take my script of Mandingo II: The Enslavening seriously!"

"Problem Number Fifty Seven: I haven't seen any of the movies nominated for an Oscar for Best Picture. Scratch that I haven't even **heard** of any of the movies nominated for Best Picture."

"Problem Number Fifty Eight: No longer welcome at the Opera. Thanks a lot Ron! You and your stupid crackers!"

"Problem Number Fifty Nine: Getting harder and harder to use sex as a blackmail tool in order to shake down men in power for money and favors. Most of the men on my current list either have dead wives or are dead themselves. And based on past experience some of them from the waist down."

"Problem Number Sixty: Am I starting to lose my looks and sex appeal because of my age? I mean I know I have a few decades left but still…"

"Problem Number Sixty One: Possibly deathly allergic to Botox."

"Problem Number Sixty Two: Don't really get Fifty Shades of Grey. All my friends in my social circle love it. But I just don't get it."

"Problem Number Sixty Three: Need better richer friends in my social circle."

"Problem Number Sixty Four: Need **anything **better than the social circle of inept agents whose presence I am forced to tolerate!"

"Problem Number Sixty Five: Sterling constantly defiles wives and daughters of the friends I **do** have in my current social circle."

"Problem Number Sixty Six: Still can't figure out the pound sign on that stupid phone!"

"Problem Number Sixty Seven: Still can't figure out how to tape any shows on my VCR player."

"Problem Number Sixty Eight: I can't find the shape and color I like in a replacement pleasure device."

"Problem Number Sixty Nine: Call number ID. It's cutting into the places I can make bomb threats to."

"Problem Number Seventy: Upset that no one is making a sequel to Vision Quest."

"Problem Number Seventy One: Coffee shop prices keep going up. What did Columbia have a coup and no one told me about it?"

"Problem Number Seventy Two: Those annoying robo calls from charities. How do they get my number? It's unlisted!"

"Problem Number Seventy Three: Actual people calling from charities. At least with robo calls you can just hang up. I have better things to do with my money than just give it away."

"Problem Number Seventy Four: Can't find a jeweler willing to put diamonds in my silverware at a reasonable price."

"Problem Number Seventy Five: No one wants to come to my dinner parties anymore. And not just because of the few times someone was assassinated."

"Problem Number Seventy Four: Climate change. If it's real I can kiss the values on my beach front property in Florida good bye!"

"Problem Number Seventy Five: The possibility of World War Three with an alliance between Japan, Ireland, Russia and Monaco. If that ever happens I'm screwed. And not in the fun way."

"Problem Number Seventy Six: The rubber plant in the break room keeps changing color and smells…The weird thing is, it's actually made of rubber."

"Problem Number Seventy Seven: Misplaced some old diaries in my apartment detailing all the things I did. And some people."

"Problem Number Seventy Eight: Sterling's constant phone call pranks are really getting on my nerves. And the nerves of my other employees. And the CIA when they call."

"Problem Number Seventy Nine. My Mother. She's still alive."

"Problem Number Eighty: My pantyhose is always too tight."

"Problem Number Eighty One: Still can't find that old 'art film' I made when I was an actress. The one with those dancers, the cathedral and the dwarves."

"Problem Number Eighty Two: I still fear the day that Krieger learns how to cook an actual meal. If it is anything like his scientific concoctions…"

"Problem Number Eighty Three: Fewer and fewer people are envious of my life. Especially when they meet my son."

"Problem Number Eighty Four: I suspect I am starting to develop a bit of a potty mouth. Must be because I hang out with dumb asses all day."

"Problem Number Eighty Five: I've been spending so much time at the office I've been forced to cut back on my drinking and sex life."

"Problem Number Eighty Six: I admit it. I don't read enough books as I should."

"Problem Number Eighty Seven: Lana refuses to rename my granddaughter to Mallory. Seriously? Abbiejean? I love the little dickens but Abbiejean?"

"Problem Number Eighty Eight: Sometimes I worry that my enemies within the CIA and FBI and in other parts of the government will come into power. And the friends I do have will fall out of power. Again if that happens I'm screwed."

"Problem Number Eighty Nine: Sometimes I worry I've been too hard on Sterling growing up. And other times I worry I haven't been hard enough!"

"Problem Ninety: I don't trust cats. Never have. Never will. Actually this isn't as much a problem as it is a personal choice. How can you relate to a creature that believes it's superior to everyone else, thinks of nothing but satisfying its own urges and sheds on the couch?"

Then Mallory brushed something off her shoulder. "Am I getting dandruff? Problem Number Ninety One!"

"Problem Number Ninety Two: I am getting more wrinkles and grey hair due to the insanity my son and my agents put me through!"

"Problem Number Ninety Three: Still trying to get my apartment back in my name and out of Ron's in case he decides he wants to kick me out again. And if he ever finds those diaries I lost he very well may do so!"

"Problem Number Ninety Four: Worried that one day Krieger will one day regain some childhood memories. Might cause him to want to put a mind control chip in my brain. Or worse turn me into a cyborg for some reason."

"COME BACK HERE!" Krieger's voice was heard.

"Speak of the Hitler Clone…"Mallory sighed.

"BLOOP! BLOOP! BLOOP!" Something green and having several eyes flopped across the office in an attempt to run.

"You can run! But you can't hide!" Krieger ran by wearing only his underwear and a gas mask waving a net around. "GET BACK IN YOUR TANK AND TAKE YOUR DISECTION LIKE A MAN!"

"Problem Number Ninety Five…"Mallory sighed.

"Problem Number Ninety Six: I don't know what's a thing and what's not anymore. I mean I used to know what things were but things change. And now things that used to be a thing aren't a thing. And things that weren't a thing are things. It's all very confusing now."

"HA HA HA HA!" Pam ran by in her bra and underwear carrying a camera.

"PAM! GET BACK HERE!" Archer ran after her completely naked and carrying an octopus. He also had a dart in his neck.

"PAM! GIVE US THAT CAMERA!" Cyril ran by also naked and with a dart in his neck.

"Speaking of things that confuse me…" Mallory blinked.

"PAM I'M GONNA SHOVE THIS DEAD OCTOPUS RIGHT UP YOUR…OH CRAP IT'S STILL ALIVE!" Archer yelled.

"Problem Number Ninety Seven," Mallory groaned. "Octopus Porn!"

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Archer yelled.

"AAAH! DON'T THROW IT ON ME!" Cyril screamed.

"Problem Number Ninety Eight…I may never be able to retire thanks to these idiots."

"Problem Ninety Nine: Ray Gillette is the only agent I have that is an actual threat to my power. Mostly because he's the only one who knows the contents of my safe and has more than two brain cells. Oh yeah and the cyborg thing probably isn't that good either."

"Problem Number One Hundred: Somehow some neo-Nazi group discovers Krieger's existence and takes him away."

"BLOOP! BLOOP! BOOP!"

"KRIEGER GET THIS DAMN THING OFF ME!" Cyril screamed.

"Actually now that I think about it, if someone takes Krieger away I'll have **one less** **problem** to deal with," Mallory remarked as she crossed the last one out. "At least ten by my count."

"RUN!" Ray was heard screaming. "IT'S ON SOME KIND OF REVENGE RAMPAGE!"

"OH MY GOD IS IT SPITTING ACID?" Lana was heard shouting.

"IT'S NOT ACID!" Pam shouted. "I JUST HAD SOME BEERS WITH JALAPENO COVERED BEARCLAWS!"

"NOT YOU!" Archer yelled. "WHATEVER THAT THING KRIEGER MADE!"

"IT'S NOT ACID! AWW! I think Debbie really likes Cyril!" Krieger said.

"IT LIKES ME TOO MUCH! AAAAAAH! WHAT IS IT DOING WITH THOSE TENTACLES?" Cyril yelled.

"GIVE ME BACK MY CAMERA! I NEED TO TAPE THIS!" Pam cheered.

"HELP ME!" Cyril screamed. "BEFORE I GET RAPED BY THE BLOB!"

"BURN BLOB BURN! NOBODY BUT ME RAVAGES CYRIL ON MY WATCH!" Cheryl was heard. "HA HA HA HA!"

"CHERYL NO! IT'S TOO UNSTABLE!" Krieger yelled.

"CHERYL!" Everyone else shouted.

FOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"AAAAH! I WAS ALMOST ON FIRE! AAAAAH!" Cyril was heard yelling.

"WHERE ARE THE FIRE EXTINGUISHERS?" Ray yelled.

"I THINK THEY GOT STOLEN TOO!" Pam shouted.

"WHAT?" Ray yelled. "WHO STEALS FIRE EXTINGUISHERS?"

"PEOPLE ON THE BLACK MARKET! WHO ELSE?" Archer yelled. "Wait is that a thing?"

"Well people buy laundry detergent on the black market so…" Pam added.

"Seriously? Why would…?" Archer began to ask.

"SHUT UP AND GET SOME WATER!" Lana shouted.

"WHERE?" Krieger shouted.

"I DON'T KNOW JUST GET IT!" Archer shouted.

"THAT ISNT BEING VERY HELPFUL!" Krieger shouted. "OH DEAR GOD IT'S STILL ALIVE!"

"AAAAH!" Ray, Cyril and Pam were heard screaming.

"HA HA HA HA!" Cheryl's cackling laughter was heard as the smoke alarm went off.

That was when the sprinklers went off in the entire building. Including Mallory's office. Within seconds she was soaked to the bone.

"You know? If I get rid of my staff including my idiot son I would have almost no problems at all!" Mallory groaned as she balled up the paper she wrote on and threw it away.


End file.
